Miranda's Legacy
by lfvoy
Summary: A collection of short vignettes written as responses to the 100 Situations challenge, Table #4. See the author's note in the first chapter for individual summaries and ratings. On indefinite hiatus.
1. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

* * *

This is a collection of responses to the 100 Situations challenge (see the LiveJournal called 100-situations). I am using Table #4 for _Firefly_, general series. Most of these are set post-BDM.

**Back Where She Belongs** (prompt: phobia), 808 words, rated K. A late-night encounter forces Kaylee to face her demon from "Objects in Space."

**Hooked **(prompt: addict), 300 words, Mal/Inara, rated K+. She did it on purpose, and it snared him.

**Mice Don't Dance** (prompt: dance), 734 words, rated K. Inara has a suggestion that River can use.

**Movement** (prompt: sing), 474 words, rated K. They're moving, and it's in the right direction.

**Cruising Speed** (prompt: cruise), 1,041 words, rated K. Speed can lead to boredom, and a bored pilot is a dangerous pilot.

**Saying Too Much** (prompt: careen), 692 words, Mal/Inara, rated K. Inara tells Mal why she left the ship.

**Believing in Dreams** (prompt: psychic), 1,315 words, rated K. Sometimes, fakes can be real.

**Battle Fatigue** (prompt: insomniac), 1,111 words, rated K+. It was one of the reasons he hadn't joined up during the war.

**Dirt and Sunshine** (prompt: bath), 859 words, rated K. Introspection isn't Zoë's way, but neither is the idea of living dirtside. After an experience like Miranda, it can help to stop and re-evaluate.

**Dominant Indicator** (prompt: homo), 614 words, rated K. After DNA analysis reveals something about Jayne's father, River and Simon to consider the nature of fatherhood itself.

**A Few Surprises** (prompt: coma), 516 words, Simon/Kaylee, rated K. An interlude in the cockpit leads to a couple of discoveries.

**Living for Herself** (prompt: suicide), 592 words, rated K+. Sometimes you can't keep thinking. Sometimes you just have to act.

**Necessary Nightmares** (prompt: treason), 841 words, rated K. It's funny, how they always end up in an Alliance-friendly bar come U-Day. But it's not funny to see who almost starts the fight this time.

**Bad Deal** (prompt: loyal), 766 words, rated K+. Jayne isn't loyal to anything except himself, his family, and money. No matter what others might think.

**Triptych** (prompt: miracle), 1,956 words, rated K+. Mal isn't surprised when the pendant falls into his hands after the day he's had, but he's not sure it's time to put it back on either.


	2. Back Where She Belongs

_Firefly_ and _Serenity_ are copyrighted materials of Mutant Enemy, Universal Pictures and Twentieth-Century Fox. This is a fan story intended for entertainment purposes only. No monetary payment has been received or will be accepted in connection with this work, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

* * *

**Back Where She Belongs  
**_Prompt: Phobia_

* * *

Inara was startled to see, of all people, Kaylee in the dining room this late. The mechanic sat at the table, staring into a cup of tea that had clearly gone cold some time ago. She was so still that Inara would have thought her asleep -- or at least lost in thought -- but Kaylee looked up at her entrance and smiled a greeting.

Selecting a mug and tea bag, Inara started heating up more water. "Has it gone cold?"

"Yeah."

Inara crossed back into the dining area and picked up Kaylee's mug. "What are you drinking?"

"Just the regular green tea." Based on the smell, she took sweetener in it, too.

Opening the appropriate cabinets, Inara selected both canisters and dropped the tea bag into the mug. The ritual was automatic, but gave her something to look at as she commented, "you're up awfully late."

"Yeah, just listenin' for trouble in the engine."

"From the dining room?"

Kaylee dropped her eyes to her empty hands and didn't answer.

The hot water kettle began to steam and Inara removed it from the burner, pouring into both mugs. Turning off the stove, she said nothing as she brought both mugs to the table and slid one over to the other woman. "Can you really hear the engine all the way up here?"

"Oh, yeah. Can hear all the way through her, you know what to listen for."

"But isn't it best in the engine room?"

Kaylee's lips twitched. "You ain't goin' to give that up, are you?"

"It's not like you to _not_ be in the engine room."

"Somethin' goes wrong with _Serenity_'s front parts, you can't hear it over the engine noise from there."

Inara was a pilot herself. "There are plenty of alarms. You'd know."

"I wouldn't _know_ know. Serenity'll tell ya what's wrong before it goes wrong 'if you just pay attention."

Inara reached out her hand and laid it over the other woman's. It was slightly cool under her touch. "Kaylee, why don't you want to go back to the engine room?"

"I didn't say I didn't want to go back there. It's just...easier to hear more from here, 'specially if the trouble ain't from the engine proper."

"Including someone accessing the hatch without permission?"

Kaylee looked away.

"You never did tell us what Early did to you back there."

"Yeah I did. He scared me. Tied me up. Made me tell him where River sleeps. But he didn't never touch me and he didn't never hurt me."

"Sweetie, there are ways to hurt someone that don't require them to touch you."

"Well, he didn't, okay?"

Inara paused, thinking. "Do you know what a phobia is?"

"Yeah, a fear."

"Not quite," she replied. "It's a fear that grows so irrational that it interferes with someone's ability to function. In most people they start after something that's reasonably scary happens, and then things build from there until it's too much."

Kaylee thought about that for a second. "Are you sayin' I got a phobia?"

"I'm not a psychologist. But I have to admit it looks like one."

"Well, I don't. I'm just bein' cautious, that's all."

"So why don't you go back to the engine room?"

Kaylee looked at her mug. Turned it around in her fingers, moving the handle opposite her hands. Turned it back and threaded her fingers through the handle. "I guess I am scared."

"Do you want me to come back to the engine room with you?"

Kaylee looked shocked. "Inara! Engine room's no place for someone all pretty and fancy like you!"

"As long as I don't actually work on the engines, I should be okay." Inara laughed. "Do you think I've never seen an engine?"

"Well, no, I know ya have, but..." Kaylee trailed off.

Finishing the last of her tea, Inara stood and tugged Kaylee to her feet. "Come on. The longer you avoid it, the worse it gets. I won't leave until you tell me it's all right."

Allowing herself to be pulled along, Kaylee muttered again. "Ain't right to drag someone along don't belong there, just 'cause I got a phobia."

"Kaylee." Inara pulled her around to face her. "_You_ belong in the engine room with _Serenity_'s heart. Don't you?"

"Yeah, but --"

"Then we're going to get you in there and and I'll stay until you can." Inara smiled. "That way things will be back the way they belong."

Kaylee hesitated at the threshold. "Are you sure? You don't mind?"

"Yes, I'm sure. No, I don't mind."

Taking a big breath, she stepped into the engine room. She looked around and smiled shakily. "Hey, _Serenity_. You miss me?"

Somehow, the beating engine seemed to reply. Inara stepped into the engine room behind Kaylee and smiled. "Why don't you start by introducing me to this part of _Serenity?_"


	3. Hooked

_Firefly_ and _Serenity_ are copyrighted materials of Mutant Enemy, Universal Pictures and Twentieth-Century Fox. This is a fan story intended for entertainment purposes only. No monetary payment has been received or will be accepted in connection with this work, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

* * *

**Hooked  
**_Prompt: Addict_

* * *

She did it on purpose. The signs were too obvious. The trunk was lying in plain sight the first time he went into the shuttle after she left. The lock was too easily broken. She meant for him to find it, to open it, to look inside. He knows that, and it's just one more thing that drives him crazy.

He won't admit it, of course. As soon as he found it, he had Jayne move the trunk to a far corner of the cargo bay. He tries to forget it's there. Doesn't want it out in the open. Doesn't want the reminder.

But he can't find a way to forget, and sometimes it doesn't take a reminder.

Late at night, when he's sure everybody else is asleep or at least otherwise occupied, he'll crawl over whatever else is in the cargo bay (thankfully, lately something has been) to get to the trunk. He'll open it. He'll reach inside and find something -- a scarf, a pillowcase, a bottle of incense. He'll draw it out and feel it, smell it, touch it. He'll close his eyes and revel in it like it's some _ài mèi_ drug.

He hates it. Tells himself that it's just a parting shot from that gorramn annoying woman and that it's far better she's off the ship. That he's an absolute _shǎ dàn_ for even _thinking_ about her, never mind going to the trunk.

Every time he thinks he's saved the money to just pack the thing up and ship it to her, something seems to get in the way. It's just an excuse, but it's enough to convince himself that it's the reason it's still there.

Mal would die before admitting that he's become addicted to the way it feels when he touches Inara's things.

* * *

Translations:

_Ài mèi_ – illicit, shady, ambiguous

_Shǎ dàn_ – stupid young fellow, idiot


	4. Mice Don't Dance

_Firefly_ and _Serenity_ are copyrighted materials of Mutant Enemy, Universal Pictures and Twentieth-Century Fox. This is a fan story intended for entertainment purposes only. No compensation has been received or will be accepted in connection with this work, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

* * *

**Mice Don't Dance  
**_Prompt: Dance_

* * *

Inara found her in the cargo bay, huddled underneath one of the sets of stairs, her arms wrapped around her knees, entire body shaking. "River? Is everything all right?"

River raised her head, revealing clear, focused eyes. The action seemed to stop her shaking. "I want it to be."

"But it isn't."

She sighed, a slight release of her breath. "No. The...they reminded me of..." She started shaking again. "When the cat's away, the mice can play. But some of the mice are rats and the rats are so much stronger and _larger_ than the mice, so they --"

"River."

She stopped and looked at Inara again. "The mice keep running around terrified, because they can't find their cage."

Inara thought about that for a minute. "Are you saying you can't stop thinking about the memories?"

River nodded.

She thought about that for a minute, considering. Then, angling her head, Inara asked, "Do the mice ever dance?"

That earned her an _are you kidding?_ look. "Mice don't dance."

"You do. Will you show me?"

"How to dance?" But the shaking had stopped, and her arms and legs had relaxed slightly. "You know how to dance. I've seen you. With the Captain."

Inara shook her head. "Socially, yes. But I never learned ballet. I can recognize some of the dances, but I don't know how to do them."

River uncurled herself completely. "You know some of them?"

"What they look like, yes."

She stood up and moved out into the cargo bay, assuming second position and beginning a series of steps. Inara laughed delightedly and called out the name. Returning the laugh, River smoothly segued into another one. "What's this one?"

Five increasingly-complicated dances later, Inara finally shook her head and admitted defeat. "Okay, you've finally found one I can't name."

River stopped, coming down squarely on her heels. "That's the Dying Swan."

"How are you feeling?"

Raising an eyebrow at the apparent non sequitur, River considered for a second. Then, a look of astonishment crossed her face. "The mice went into their cages!"

"Good!"

She walked closer. "You knew."

"Knew what?"

"The mice would run away if I danced. You knew." She paused. "Distress tolerance. Distraction. You were thinking about coping skills."

Inara chuckled ruefully. "It worked, didn't it?"

River nodded and scampered off. "I have to go check the nav settings."

"River?" Inara called after her.

The girl paused.

"Why don't you try that the next time the mice get out of their cage?"

She half turned, offering a soft smile, and nodded before continuing toward the bridge.

"That was really well done," came a voice from another direction. Inara turned to see Simon leaning against the doorway from the passenger dorm, a capped hypogun in his hand. "How did you know about distress tolerance? Are you trained?"

"Actually, yes," said Inara, crossing behind him into the dorm and settling herself on the couch. "It's about more than physical care, you know. Psychological technique can be -- useful."

Sitting down next to her, he nodded. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

"Many Companions have advanced degrees in counseling psychology or a similar field." She paused. "I'm one of them."

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

She leaned back, settling herself more firmly. "River's problems weren't just psychological."

"They aren't now, either."

"But it's more under control. That makes a difference. I'm also not a licensed counselor."

Simon considered. "But she trusts you."

"Yes." Then her gaze sharpened. "Simon, you're not asking me to counsel her, are you? That'd be both unethical and inappropriate!"

"No, no, I wouldn't ask that." He looked embarrassed. "I just...if you think something can help, will you let one of us know?" He picked up the hypo from where he had laid it on a table. "Doping her all the time can't do any good."

She looked at him, startled. She'd privately thought so herself, but wouldn't have guessed he agreed.

"It's all I know how to do," he explained. "I can't just do _nothing_. I've felt so helpless ever since Miranda."

She laid a hand on his arm. "Loving your sister isn't nothing. She needs that."

"Yeah." His lips twitched. "I guess she does."

"I _know_ it."

"So you'll help if can?"

"I'd be honored," said Inara sincerely. "If nothing else, because she's such a beautiful dancer."

This time he smiled. "Yes," he said. "She is."


	5. Movement

_Author's Note: if you haven't heard Gina Torres (Zoë__) sing, you owe it to yourself to change that._

* * *

_Firefly_ and _Serenity_ are copyrighted materials of Mutant Enemy, Universal Pictures and Twentieth-Century Fox. This is a fan story intended for entertainment purposes only. No compensation has been received or will be accepted in connection with this work, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

* * *

**Movement  
**_Prompt: Sing_

* * *

Mal is walking through the passenger dorm toward the cargo bay when he hears what sounds like music. He stops. There is no player set here. Who has brought what onto his ship?

After listening for a moment, he hears the sound of running water and smiles. It is Zoë. Zoë is taking a shower. And she is singing while she does so.

It's been a long time since he has heard Zoë sing in the shower. He had wondered if she ever would again. She has been so quiet since Miranda. Since Mr. Universe's moon. Since the split second when Wash died before her eyes.

Mal is alone in the passenger dorm, and his errand in the cargo bay can wait a few minutes. Everyone else is busy with their own activities. They will not see him stand in the middle of the lounge and listen while Zoë sings. It's something about flying away and never turning back. It's a song he's heard before, but not in a long time, and never from Zoë. Mal thinks she sounds better than whoever first recorded the song.

He remembers the first time he heard her sing. It was during the war. He'd noted absently that her speaking voice was melodious, that it had a bit of music in it. But one afternoon when she started leading a marching song, he realized that her speaking voice was nearly cacophony when compared with her singing voice.

Mal has always loved to hear Zoë sing.

The water shuts off about the same time he hears footsteps on the stairs. He checks to make sure that his face wears a proper captain-y expression. Nobody else needs to see him, standing in the middle of the lounge, doing nothing but listening and smiling.

Jayne appears before Mal finishes his trip to the cargo bay. "Was that Zoë? She singing again?"

The door to the shower room opens and she emerges, hair still damp. She seems a little defensive. "Yeah, that was me. What about it?"

"Nothing," says Mal. He thinks that it is good to see that things are getting back to normal. _Serenity_ is flying again. Zoë is singing again. Things are moving again, and it's in the right direction.

Jayne nods, and echoes his answer. "Nothing."

Zoë shrugs, tosses her towel over her shoulders, and makes her way back toward the crew quarters. She is almost out of earshot when Mal speaks again. "It's good to hear you singing."

She stops. Puts a hand on the doorway and half-turns back toward them. Jayne is still standing there, the smile on his face the same as the one Mal wore a few minutes ago. Zoë addresses them both. "It's good to feel like singing again."

Then she starts back toward her destination, and they go on with their day.


	6. Cruising Speed

_Firefly_ and _Serenity_ are copyrighted materials of Mutant Enemy, Universal Pictures and Twentieth-Century Fox. This is a fan story intended for entertainment purposes only. No monetary payment has been received or will be accepted in connection with this work, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

* * *

**Cruising Speed  
**_Prompt: Cruise_

* * *

The old adage, first heard from atmospheric pilots on Earth-that-Was, held that the only interesting things about a flight were the take-off and the landing. Throttling _Serenity_'s engines back to cruise mode, River reflected that the statement was doubly true for extra-atmospheric craft. At least in atmospheric craft, the engines had to be kept running when the craft was in cruise mode.

In the black, where there was no air to create friction, "cruise mode" meant setting the engines on standby and letting momentum carry the ship forward. A pilot's job during cruise was simply to make sure that the ship didn't go off course...which was really a matter of simple vector mathematics. _Serenity_ would get within range of Boros without any further action from her.

She sighed. Two days of cruise mode. That meant two days with nearly nothing to do.

Two days with nothing to distract her from the demons still resident within her psyche.

Now that the terrible secret she'd fought to hide -- even from herself -- was no longer an issue, it was theoretically possible for River to stay lucid. But she knew there were other demons, not terrible secrets, but memories of the Academy. Of other assignments she'd completed. There were still things she carefully never even hinted about. It was better to keep their existence to herself.

She ran her hands over the pilot console, careful not to disturb any of the switches or settings. There was no more piloting to be done, but she needed to stay and monitor in case something unexpected appeared from the black.

Pilots throughout the 'verse faced the difficulty of staying alert during cruise time. It was a hazard of the profession. Boredom could be deadly when it dulled your senses too much.

River, with her razor-sharp senses, didn't face that problem. There were days she wished she did. Rather, she faced the opposite: boredom meant no distractions to keep her from spiraling back into near-lethal insanity. For her, boredom didn't just carry the threat of a deadly piloting error. She shuddered at the memory of the Maidenhead. Pilot error hadn't caused those deaths.

Inara had suggested dance as a distraction. It worked. But there was no room in the cockpit.

Wash, of course, had had Zoë. She'd also quietly noticed the amount of his personal funds he spent on reading material. He'd devoured penny-dreadful novels the way Jayne devoured protein. She wished she didn't find them so predictable.

The side of her hand encountered something long and stiff as she dropped it from the console. She looked down at her sketch pad and then pulled it into her lap. The soft bag with her pencils lay atop the console where she'd put it before take-off.

Finding a fresh page, she looked out at the black, considering. The stars in front of the cockpit window suggested points and she copied them down, looking for a shape. Finding one, she began outlining.

Footsteps sounded behind her. "Felt you throttle the engines back. We already at cruise speed?"

She didn't look up. "Yes, Captain."

Coming up behind her, Mal looked down at her sketch pad. The image of Wash's face was already well-defined; she'd begun a bit of shading to suggest shadows. "You working on that before?"

River looked up that time. "No. I started it after engaging cruise."

"Albatross, that wasn't but a minute or so ago. You couldn't have drawn all this that fast."

Her pencil stopped and then dropped onto the sketch pad. She'd been drawing so quickly that she'd be done well before the end of her shift; never mind the end of the cruise period. Her spirits sank.

The Academy had trained her body and mind to be lightning-fast. For the most part, she reflected, that was useful: among other things, it was why she was such a good pilot. Unfortunately, she thought, the 'verse tended to spend more time in cruise mode than in take-off or landing.

"What is it, little one?"

The expression on her face must have given some of her thoughts away. "I didn't realize how fast."

"It's a good likeness. Shouldn't take you much more longer to finish it up."

"It won't." She looked at her hands and turned the palms up. Closing and reopening her fingers once, she turned them back over and retrieved the fallen pencil.

There was no point not finishing just because she'd be left with more boredom once it was. She could feel the captain's gaze, watching her while she drew, and she wondered what she would do when she ran out of sheets in the drawing pad. There weren't many left.

"Guess the Academy never thought about what you'd do when you weren't needing that speed they drugged and trained into you." He paused. "I never did think speed could be a liability."

She shrugged. "Traveling in cruise mode is the most efficient use of fuel. Time is free."

"And fuel ain't." He dropped into the other seat, but didn't continue. Silence fell as she finished the drawing of Wash's face and considered expanding it out to include his shoulders. Or maybe she could work in images of those things he loved -- _Serenity_, Zoë, his novels. She let her eyes absently roam the board while she thought, making sure nothing was amiss with the ship.

"River," said Mal into the quiet. He so rarely used her name that she stopped her perusal and consideration to look directly at him.

"Come time for us to pick up some more supplies, you make sure you include you some more pads and pencils. As much as you need to get you through."

She dropped her gaze, feeling faintly embarrassed. "I'll be economical about it."

"Bored pilot's pretty dangerous. Guess that's doubly so for you, all that speed they put into you. I know you won't spend what you don't need to."

"Thank you, Captain." In her ears her voice sounded small and shy.

He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt, turning toward the back of the cockpit. "You just keep us economical as to fuel, and we'll call it even."

She could hear the smile in her voice this time. "I'll keep us cruising."


	7. Saying Too Much

_Firefly_ and _Serenity_ are copyrighted materials of Mutant Enemy, Universal Pictures and Twentieth-Century Fox. This is a fan story intended for entertainment purposes only. No monetary payment has been received or will be accepted in connection with this work, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

* * *

**Saying Too Much  
**_(Prompt: Careen)_

* * *

She'd finished the background while _Serenity_ was still careened on her side, having the red paint washed off. Taking the opportunity offered by the removal of that and years of grime, Inara had purchased the paints and asked Jayne to build a scaffold.

She did the work in layers, carefully, adding only a single color or element and then letting it dry before going on to the next one. There was plenty of work to do while the paint dried. By the time she was ready to do the finishing touches on _Serenity_'s new logo, the ship had been returned to the upright position, but it still was several days before launch readiness.

Inara looked forward to her time spent with the paints and brushes. It was soothing at a time when so little wasn't. As she started filling in the stenciled English words, she reflected that she was going to miss working on the logo.

"Never did think I'd ever see you like that."

Some things she wouldn't miss. She looked down at Mal. "Like what?"

He gestured to indicate her appearance, including the paint splatters on her face. "Less than perfect."

"I suppose I'm just trying to fit in. It'll still take a bit of work before I do."

Mal sighed and started to climb the scaffolding. He still moved slowly, mindful of the healing abdominal injury, but he was able to make it up without assistance. "You've done a beautiful job on this."

"Thank you."

"Almost makes me think you really care."

She put the paintbrush down before she could give in to the temptation to smear paint across his face. But she couldn't think of a sarcastic verbal reply, so she answered simply. "I do care, Mal. You know that."

He swung down to sit next to her, eyes on the fresh paint. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Silence fell, and she picked the paintbrush back up. He sat and watched her as she finished another letter. "You mean this to be the mark you leave when you go?"

"I don't leave marks."

"What do you leave? Broken hearts?"

By the look on his face, he was thinking he'd said too much. She looked down, hoping there was someone else around, but had no luck. "Good memories."

"At least you like to think so."

"Well, it's certainly my intent, and no one has ever suggested I didn't." _Except you_, she managed not to say.

"I was gonna miss the rent money. It sure would've come in handy sometimes, last few weeks. Might've kept the primary buffer panel from falling off."

"I see." She realized she'd stopped painting and went back to it. "Well, hopefully you'll find another tenant soon. _Serenity_'s quite infamous right now; perhaps you can use its notoriety."

He swung his feet onto the rungs and turned around, preparing to climb back down the scaffolding, not looking at her. "It won't be the same as you. Nobody else would've let me set the rent that high."

"I'm sure you won't miss me long."

His eyes caught hers briefly before he climbed back down. "Yeah, I suppose you are."

"Mal," she said as he got to the bottom rung. "You wanted to know why I left. It's because I'd started to love you."

"What?"

Angry at herself for the lapse in control, she refused to meet his eyes. "I started loving all of you. Even the ship. That's why I left before."

"You mind explaining that to me? It don't exactly make normal sense for someone to leave when they love."

She considered him, not knowing where to begin. Finally, she answered, "yes, I do mind explaining."

There was a long pause, during which any number of expressions crossed his face. Some were so fleeting that she couldn't identify them. She was able to identify some of the others, but found she really didn't want to.

Like him, she'd said too much.

Finally, Mal ended his apparent introspection with a shrug. "Suit yourself." He turned and walked the rest of the way into the ship. Her eyes followed him, wondering whether he'd ever bring it up again.


	8. Believing in Dreams

_Firefly_ and _Serenity_ are copyrighted materials of Mutant Enemy, Universal Pictures and Twentieth-Century Fox. This is a fan story intended for entertainment purposes only. No compensation has been received or will be accepted in connection with this work, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

* * *

**Believing in Dreams  
**_(Prompt: Psychic)_

* * *

The barker was using what sounded like the exact same spiel he'd been using the last time they'd visited. "Behind this curtain lies the secret they don't want you to see: proof of alien life! Laugh if you must, but what you see will change your life forever. It will stalk your dreams and haunt your very soul!"

River rolled her eyes at Kaylee as they passed. "Entertainment in imagination."

"Hmm?" Kaylee's eyes were intent on the shopping list in her hands.

"Nothing." She returned to her perusal of the stalls as they passed. They were in a part of the bazaar that offered all sorts of services, some clearly legitimate, some clearly not, and some that were somewhere in between. It was a cacophony of sound, a bright mixture of all humanity had to offer in the 'verse, a plethora of sights and sounds and smells and feels that River hadn't had the chance to take in during her last visit here. She was fascinated.

As they passed another stall – _Isis Minerva, Psychic_ – a woman came out to stand in the door. She was middle-aged, but still clearly in good shape, and her eyes fell directly on River. "So many stories," she murmured softly, clearly not addressing anyone in the area.

But River heard her anyway and went stock still, her attention drawn. It couldn't be. All the readers she knew of were like her: made by the Parliament, prepared for a purpose. How could there be one here, and how was she using it for entertainment? Could reading even _be_ entertainment?

"River?" Kaylee had kept on going, but when she realized River had stopped had turned back. "What's wrong?"

"A reader," said River. "I thought they were all like me."

Kaylee glanced at the booth. "Oh, honey, no. She's just an entertainer. Tries to sucker people into thinking they've found some sort of contact with the afterlife or something. She probably don't read any more than I do."

"Oh." River cocked her head sideways. "Who would find that entertaining?"

"Lots of folk. I've even gone to one myself, see what she might conjure up about me."

"Did she think up anything interesting?"

Kaylee laughed. "Oh, yeah. She was pretty _xíng_. Didn't realize 'til later she had figured most of it out by looking at me. I hadn't changed from my coveralls, and I was carrying the same kind of supply list I got now. But it was fun."

River didn't move, still contemplating "Isis Minerva," who was obviously not returning the favor. The crowds of people separated to flow around them, but not without jostling.

"River, sweetheart? Come on, we don't got all day to stand 'round and look at a _jiǎ de_."

She shook herself out of her reverie and followed Kaylee, her eyes still on the psychic. "Doesn't feel like a _jiǎ de_."

* * *

River stood in the shadow across the passway, watching Isis Minerva's door. It was later, and the bazaar lights had been darkened, making it easier to see without being seen. Many of the booths were closed, but the psychic seemed to still be doing a steady business. Another customer came out, shaking his head, his amazement obvious even without her enhanced senses.

She'd looked it up after they'd gotten back from their shopping expedition. Entertainers pretended to connect people with a "spirit" world. The best were good observers and sharp judges of character, but no more than that. The worse existed on guesswork alone. People were fascinated by psychics.

_That's because they don't know what it's really like._

Her feet seemed to wander toward the door of their own accord. She ducked through the hanging beads that served as a separator and found herself inside a dark room with a heavy miasma of incense. She coughed.

"Seeking something, child?"

In the dim light, she could see that Isis Minerva stood in front of her. River coughed a little. "Not looking."

"Everyone's looking," said the psychic softly. She reached for River's hand. "They don't come in here if they aren't. What are you seeking? The _líng hún_ of a departed loved one?"

Their hands touched, and the psychic's suddenly tightened. Her entire demeanor abruptly changed. "It's you."

_"Duìbuqǐ?"_

"The one from before. The one with all the currents flowing toward her, the one who carries so much that isn't her own." Isis Minerva pushed closer, studying River's face. "I felt you earlier."

"You saw me. We passed by."

"I didn't see you. I didn't want to look." She slid her hands to River's face, cupping it and turning it up to face her. "Who are you?"

"I'm River." But she knew that wasn't what the psychic was asking.

"Your name is River? It suits you: the one who moves, silent yet strong, whispering yet with so much to say." She paused. "Rivers speak of dreams and yet hide things from plain view. What dreams are you seeking?"

She didn't have any idea how to answer that, so she opted for honesty. "I don't have dreams."

"Everyone has dreams, child. Some people just don't choose to remember them."

"I choose not to remember, then," she replied.

Isis dropped her hands away from River's face. "That's a shame. Some dreams should never be forgotten."

"Some dreams," said River, "are nightmares."

"That's especially true when they're not yours."

She looked up sharply to see Isis staring back. River shook her head. "You've been reading the news nets. You know who I am."

"No, child." The psychic slowly walked all the way around her. "I don't know who you are. I don't even think you know who you are."

"I told you. I'm River."

"River Tam. It's just a name. Who are you, River Tam? Are you only a receptacle for other people's dreams or do you have your own secrets?" The older woman paused. "They want you to believe that, you know."

"Believe what?"

"That you're nothing more than what they made you." A new timbre had crept into Isis' voice. "They always want you to believe that. The real danger is when you do. I should know."

She finally understood. "They made you, too."

"Yes. An earlier project." She gestured around her. "They told me I was nothing else, and I believed it. So here I am. Do you believe it, River Tam?"

That was a gap in logic. "You wouldn't talk like that if you believed it now."

"It's too late now. You didn't answer my question."

She glanced away. "I don't have an answer."

"And I don't have one for you. I can only answer the simpler questions. Does my husband still love me? Has my son forgotten me?" She inhaled and exhaled sharply, moving to stand in front of a table displaying several oddities. "Even if I had your answer, I wouldn't give it. You must learn it yourself."

"Like you did?"

"I never did. I don't even know my own name." Nodding in decision, Isis plucked a string of beads off the table and handed it to her. "My gift to you. Find your dreams, River Tam. I need to serve my clients."

She clutched the string. "What dreams would those be?"

"They're the ones that answer your questions. Who are you? Where are you going? What do you want?" Without giving her a chance to reply, Isis ducked through another curtain and disappeared into the inner room of her shop. There was nowhere else for River to go except back to _Serenity_.

Simon met her at the cargo bay door. "River? Where have you been? Are you all right?" He frowned down at her hands. "What are those _lì_?"

She realized she was still holding the string of beads and opened her hand. Her grip had been tight enough that they'd left impressions in her skin.

"Someone else's dreams," she answered. "Without the nightmares."

* * *

Translations:

_Duìbuqǐ_ – excuse me, I'm sorry

_Jiǎ de_ – fake, phony

_Lì_ – small round things

_Líng hún_ – soul, spirit

_Xíng_ – capable, competent, effective, "all right"


	9. Battle Fatigue

_Firefly_ and _Serenity_ are copyrighted materials of Mutant Enemy, Universal Pictures and Twentieth-Century Fox. This is a fan story intended for entertainment purposes only. No compensation has been received or will be accepted in connection with this work, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

* * *

**Battle Fatigue  
**_(Prompt: Insomniac)_

* * *

_One clip of ammo and only one arm to use it. Doc and Kaylee down. Zoë not doin' much better. And Crazy Girl outside the blast doors gettin' et by Reavers. Looked like they'd found their own little Serenity Valley, right here on this no-name moon._

_Mal appeared from nowhere, not looking no better than any of the rest of them. Zoë struggled to stand, gave up, gave him her report from the ground. Just as she finished, the doors began to open._

_Crazy Girl stood there in silhouette, weapons in both hands, dripping blood, raising her eyes to meet theirs –_

He bolted awake suddenly, sweating and gasping in the dark. Vera was already in his hands; he must have reached for her automatically. But the only sound was the low drone of _Serenity_'s environmental systems, dutifully keeping air circulating even though they were still on the ground at Persephone.

Groaning, Jayne laid Vera down and shifted to a position that didn't strain his shoulder so much. His cabin was locked tight, door booby-trapped. He'd seen to that after the first dream.

_Should've been the last one._

He closed his eyes and pulled the covers tighter around himself, but he suspected he wouldn't sleep again that night. He was right.

* * *

He made through until dinner the next day before his temper frayed completely. Kaylee was back to her sunny self, chirping on happily about repairs nearly being done and looking forward to being out in the black again. She was all excited about the opportunity for some fresh coin, some different places, some fresh faces...

Jayne slammed his chopsticks down. "Thought we done had enough of strangers," he snapped, "considerin' we ain't even done with the repairs."

Kaylee's tone dimmed slightly. "That was different. That was just the once."

"And once is once too much!" he roared.

Silence fell until River spoke. "Not sleeping well. Shortens the temper."

Abandoning his plate, Jayne stomped out of the galley toward the cargo hold. He'd just about made it to the weight bench when he heard Simon's voice behind him. "Jayne?"

"What?"

"Is she right? Are you not sleeping?"

"Doing fine." Reaching down, he retrieved one of the dumbbells and started curls with his good arm.

"You know, we've all been through a...fairly traumatic event. It'd be normal to have a bit of insomnia."

"I said –" _Lift._ "– I'm doing –" _Lower._ "– Fine."

"Forgive me," said Simon, "but you don't look fine. Even when I adjust 'fine' down to where it passes for you." He paused. "There's no shame in asking for a smoother."

Sleep meant dreams. Jayne held the dumbbell at the top of the lift and shot him a glare. "Leave me alone 'fore I fix you to where you _don't _need a smoother."

* * *

The nightmare was worse that night, and when he awoke, his sheets were soaked with sweat. Cursing, Jayne flicked on a light, got up, and stripped them off. He climbed up the ladder and opened his cabin door, intent on going to the shower room to wash them off.

Crazy Girl stood there in the corridor, staring at his door. He felt his temper rise again. "What're you looking at?"

"You." She shifted slightly, casting her eyes into shadow. "I could hear you."

"Weren't saying nothing."

"No. But your mind was saying plenty. Loud enough for everyone to hear."

"Then why ain't everyone awake?"

"They don't know what to listen for." Wraith-like, she shifted again. "Don't know what the nightmares are like. You shouldn't have to either."

"Little late for that now, ain't it, Crazy?"

"It's not going to go away," she informed him soberly. "It never goes away. You shouldn't pretend it's not there. Could cause your own Miranda."

He snorted. "Government ain't interested in playing with my brain."

"They don't have to. Damage already done." She stepped out of the shadows to walk up and meet his eyes. "Need to take care of it before it takes care of you."

She vanished down the hall before he could come up with a retort.

* * *

He stood in the doorway. "Doc, you got anything that'd put me down way far?"

Simon looked up from his work in the infirmary's supply chests. "What do you mean?"

"That smoother you offered last night. You got anything that'd make me sleep hard?"

"Without dreaming, you mean?"

"Somethin' like that, yeah." He didn't want to admit too much. But prissy or not, the doctor'd been through Miranda too. Jayne figured he knew not to ask questions.

Simon rummaged around in the cabinet. "Yes, I have something. But you can't use it more than two nights running." He extracted a vial, loaded it into a syringe, and offered it. "If you're having nightmares, it won't completely solve the problem. It'll just let you get enough rest to think it through."

Jayne decided that was good enough. He offered his arm and hissed slightly as the needle went in.

"Go straight back to your cabin. This takes effect pretty quickly."

The doc wasn't kidding. Jayne was almost asleep by the time his head hit the pillow.

* * *

He woke up slowly, which is something Jayne Cobb didn't normally do. Glancing at the chrono, he saw that he had slept nearly twelve hours. If there had been nightmares, he didn't remember them. Stretching, he sat up. Whatever that was, it was good.

_You can't use it more than two nights running. It won't completely solve the problem._

Jayne stood up and went to the sink to splash water on his face. He looked up, saw himself in the mirror and grimaced. He'd lost weight, and the circles under his eyes were dark enough and deep enough that he might have been punched in both.

He'd heard about this, of course. The doctors had some big fancy word for it, post-trauma something or another, but there was another phrase that described it better. Battle fatigue. It was one of the reasons he hadn't joined up during the war. He'd seen plenty in his time, but he knew he'd never seen anything that bad.

Until now.

_Mal appeared from nowhere, not looking no better than any of the rest of them. Zoë struggled to stand, gave up, gave him her report from the ground._

Wash's jealousy over the bond between the two was – had been – some of the best fun around. It didn't seem so funny anymore. He wondered how they'd managed it.

He decided to find out. The tattoo of boots passing by his cabin indicated that Zoë had passed by, walking toward the cockpit. Pulling on a shirt, Jayne left his cabin to follow.


	10. Dirt and Sunshine

_Firefly_ and _Serenity_ are copyrighted materials of Mutant Enemy, Universal Pictures and Twentieth-Century Fox. This is a fan story intended for entertainment purposes only. No compensation has been received or will be accepted in connection with this work, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

* * *

**Dirt and Sunshine  
**_Prompt: Bath_

* * *

Zoë hoisted herself through the upper hatch and onto _Serenity_'s skin. The metal was so hot that she wondered why it wasn't glowing. She kept her hands moving for fear of burning them, and decided to squat instead of sit. At least her boots had thick soles. How could the other woman stand it?

"Heat feels good," said River without opening her eyes. "Different than the cold."

"You think it's cold on _Serenity_?"

"Has to be most of the time. Cold fingers always reaching in from the outside, leeches from the black. Takes too much power to beat them back completely." She tipped her head back, eyes still closed. "Leeches don't like the sun."

"Maybe they're on to something. Sweetie, you're going to burn up if you don't come back inside. How long _have_ you been sunbathing up here?"

"Long enough to get warm. Time to turn over anyway." Stretching, River finally opened her eyes and sat up, exposing the cooling mat underneath her. There was also a bottle of skin protector. Zoë realized the child wasn't being as foolish as she might have looked.

"I don't look good in red," River soberly informed her.

"I can believe that. You all set up to leave soon as the Captain gets back?"

"Willing. Waiting."

She decided to take that as a yes.

"It's a yes," clarified River, who was now lying on her stomach. "Just want to get as much heat into my skin as I can. Store it up for when we're not under the sun." She flipped her hair forward to expose her neck. "Don't know when we'll be back. We sniff the air, we don't kiss the dirt."

"We'll be back dirtside soon enough."

"But not home." River turned her head to look at Zoë. "We're home here. But _Serenity_'s homesick."

Zoë had no idea how to respond to that, but she figured it was as good a time as any to go back inside. The heat had found its way through her soles.

* * *

She had been born vesselside. The longest time she'd ever spent on a planet was the six months they'd been on Hera, and that was a time she didn't care to remember that well.

In her quarters, Zoë stripped herself down to her underwear and opened the sink so she could wash the sweat off her skin. She didn't look at herself in the mirror; rather, her eyes fell on a dinosaur draped over one corner. She winced. Apparently she'd missed that one when she had packed them up.

Wash had spread those things everywhere, as if he wanted to make sure no one forgot that he was on _Serenity_. After she'd finished washing, she took it down and got the box with the rest of the dinosaurs out from underneath her bunk.

She'd put them back out someday, she knew. But not right now.

Sliding the box back into its place, Zoë looked around at her quarters. Their quarters. She didn't really know what to call them now, but it didn't matter. She found herself smiling at the wall hangings, the knickknacks, a crazy-quilt rug that Wash had found somewhere and put down despite her protests. He'd insisted that it would match everything else, and to her surprise it had.

He did love making himself at home.

Sighing, she picked up a string of beads that had found its way onto the bed table and started to put it away. But then she stopped and looked at the beads. Hiroko had strung these, back on Haven, and presented them to her with considerable seriousness. Wash, who'd had just a little too much of the local brew at the time, had thought it incredibly funny. She'd poked him in the ribs, offered a smile and lavished praise on the gift.

Later, he'd waxed poetic about settling down and starting a farm there. She'd laughed; neither of them knew how to farm. But, she realized now, he did have one thing right: Haven had started to feel like a home port.

Zoë closed her eyes and swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. Haven was gone. _Serenity_ had no home port.

* * *

Later, after they'd taken off, she found the Captain down in the cargo bay, sitting on the catwalk overlooking the boxes and bags they'd taken on at Bellerophon. His legs dangled off the edge and he seemed to be lost in thought.

Not breaking the silence, Zoë leaned on the railing next to him, waiting.

"Something on your mind, Zoë?"

"You grew up on a planet," she said, not knowing where to begin. Introspection wasn't her strong suit.

"Shadow was a moon."

"Near enough. What was it like? Living dirtside, I mean. Not your family, not unless you want to talk about that."

He twisted around to look at her. "You feeling all right? Never thought I'd hear you ask something like that."

She shrugged. "Just curious. Wondering what it's like to see sunshine instead of starlight."

He looked at her face for a long time and then indicated the edge of the catwalk. "Have a seat. I'll see what I can remember."


	11. Dominant Indicator

_Firefly_ and _Serenity_ are copyrighted property of Mutant Enemy, Universal Pictures and Twentieth-Century Fox. This fiction item is intended for entertainment purposes only. No compensation has been received or will be accepted for it, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

* * *

**Dominant Indicator**  
_Prompt: Homo_

* * *

Simon nodded to himself as he scanned the results on the screen before him. "Yes, the eyes would be homozygous."

"Homo-what?" came the question from behind him. "Doc, you know I ain't sly. Are you sayin' my genes say I am?"

He sighed, not bothering to turn around and look at Jayne. "No. I'm saying that the genes that determine your eye color are the same. Which doesn't surprise me, since they're blue. It takes two recessive genes to create those."

"Oh," he answered. "I guess there is some truth in these DNA profiles you're running on all of us."

"DNA's not a true or false question. It just is, which is why I'm running these profiles." He paused the screen to stretch. "That, and they'll help me identify you when you finally get hurt too badly to recognize you any other way."

"That's a long day coming, Doc. So how come I have the same genes for my eyes? My parents had different colors."

"If you had different genes, you wouldn't have blue eyes. Brown is dominant; it takes precedence over blue. But it's possible for a brown-eyed person to pass a blue-eyed gene if one of _their_ parents had blue eyes."

"Neither my grandpa nor my grandma had them either. My daddy's whole family has brown eyes."

"That's not possible. Brown eyes are dominant."

Jayne slid off the diagnostic table. "I'm just tellin' you what I know, Doc. Guess there must be a kind of blue eyes that's - what's that word you used? Dominated?"

"Dominant. And there isn't any record of that in medical history. All of the cases where something like that happened turned out to be cases of mistaken parentage -" he stopped suddenly, realizing the significance of what he was saying.

Jayne's eyes narrowed and his tone became belligerent. "You saying my daddy wasn't my daddy?"

Simon sighed and turned around. "I'm saying that nobody's ever seen a dominant case of blue eyes before. I suppose it's theoretically possible."

"Damn right it is," he retorted before he stomped out. Simon closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the quiet before turning back toward the analysis.

"The human genome was mapped in the early 2000s," announced River from behind him. That's two hundred years before we left Earth-that-Was."

"I know," he said.

"So all known variations of genotype and phenotype were identified five hundred years ago. It's highly unlikely that a new type of phenotype would have arisen in such a short evolutionary time period." She paused. "Someone who's homozygous for brown eyes can't have a blue-eyed child."

"I _know_, River," answered Simon. "But Jayne doesn't want to accept what I see in his DNA, and I don't see any reason to argue with him."

"Why not?" she asked, sitting down where the other man had been seated before. "Who wouldn't want to know the truth about themself?"

He snapped off the viewer and turned around again, admitting he wouldn't have time to finish the analysis right now. "Human beings are more complicated than their DNA. Even if someone else was Jayne's biological father, that man clearly didn't raise him. So it's legitimate to argue that his father came from a family without blue eyes."

"A father's a father," she answered.

"Is he? Then what about ours?"

At that, she fell silent. "I see. Emotional connections take precedence over biological identity. They're the dominant force. In that case, who is our father?"

"I don't know," he said slowly. His eyes lost focus as he stared past her, thinking. It occurred to him that maybe he should be jealous of Jayne. "Maybe we didn't have one at all."


	12. A Few Surprises

_Firefly_ and _Serenity_ are copyrighted property of Mutant Enemy, Universal Pictures and Twentieth-Century Fox. This fiction item is intended for entertainment purposes only. No compensation has been received or will be accepted for it, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

* * *

**A Few Surprises  
**_Prompt: Coma_

**

* * *

**

Kaylee hesitated at the door to the cockpit. The person in the pilot's seat was one of the last she'd have expected to see sitting there.

"You surprise me, Dr. Tam," she finally said, her tone somewhere between admiration and worry. "I had no idea you could fly a Firefly." Although seeing Simon was always shiny, she worried about whether he'd mistreat _Serenity_. He might not know any better.

Simon turned slightly toward her. "Hi. I can't."

Alarmed, she turned around. "Riv–"

"Please don't," he cut in. "She's asleep. Finally."

She quieted but she knew there was still a worried look on her face. If something went wrong mid-flight...Kaylee shuddered when she thought about the last time _that_ had happened.

"Relax," he continued. "She says that since we're mid-flight and only running on inertia, all I need to do is watch the board in case something goes wrong." He shrugged. "That's not exactly hard."

That made her feel better, since she'd done it a few times herself. "It's pretty boring, though."

"This isn't the first time I've done it," he answered. He held out a hand. "But come here. It's not boring tonight."

Smiling, she let him draw her over to the pilot's seat where she settled into his lap. Her comment this time was teasing. "You sayin' you have something interesting to look at?"

His hands found her hair and pulled it down around her shoulders. "Yes, actually. There's a comet out there. At least that's what the board says it is."

That wasn't what she'd expected to hear, but Simon was apparently full of surprises tonight. "A comet?"

"Yeah," he said, shifting her slightly so she could see out the window. He pointed. "There. See it?"

"Shiny," she breathed. "Yeah, that's a comet. Look at that coma."

His hands stilled. "Coma?"

"That glow 'round the nucleus. Those tails'll really be somethin' once it gets close to a sun."

Simon looked confused now. "Nucleus? That's a comet, not a cell."

Kaylee turned to look back at him. "I know it is. That's the center of the comet. And, see, the coma is that gas and dust 'round it. It'll spread out real pretty once it hits a sun's wind."

"I didn't know a star had wind."

"Oh, yeah. It's why _Serenity_ can't be flew without a pilot inside a solar system. The wind comin' off the sun would toss it around, same way it blows the coma off the nucleus and makes the tails."

His hands had found her hair again. "You're amazing."

It felt good enough that she burrowed her face against his neck. "Naw. I'm just a mechanic, that's all. Means I need to know a little about flyin', but I can't do what River does."

"It means you know more astronomy than I do. I didn't know comets worked that way."

She pushed off his chest. "Really?"

"Really," he answered. "You give me a pleasant surprise nearly every day." His eyes weren't on the comet now, she saw. They were on her.

She leaned down to kiss him. "I like surprises."


	13. Living for Herself

_Firefly_ and _Serenity_ are copyrighted materials of Mutant Enemy, Universal Pictures and Twentieth-Century Fox. This is a fan story intended for entertainment purposes only. No monetary payment has been received or will be accepted in connection with this work, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

* * *

**Living for Herself**  
_Prompt: Suicide_**

* * *

  
**

She felt it before she found it, an unexpected oblong wrapped in one of the dresses near the bottom of her last trunk. Not wanting to risk tearing the expensive cloth, Inara took the dress from the trunk and laid it on the bed before extracting the box.

She hadn't opened it since shortly after Simon and River came aboard _Serenity_. But she opened it now, facing its contents squarely, refusing to look away from the syringe with death inside.

Why had she kept it? By the time she'd moved to Sheydra's Training House, she was well out of the habit of taking the supplements. There was no longer any need to carry death with her. She'd let it creep inside herself again.

She'd let Alana down.

Again.

_I have to keep living. For both of us._

It had become a mantra. She still didn't know if the time bomb she carried in her DNA would ever trigger the way Alana's had. The doctors had told her there was no way to tell; the supplements were a precaution, not a preventative.

Closing the box, she laid it on a shelf in the passenger dorm she'd taken over after coming back to Serenity. She would have allowed herself to sink to the bed if it hadn't been covered in dresses. Despite the wire that Kaylee had strung across three walls of the room, there hadn't been enough room to hang all of them up.

_Why are you in the dorm anyway? Without the shuttle, it'll be impossible to take clients._

Earlier, she'd told Kaylee that it was because of the lower rent. But the younger woman had seen right through that; Mal likely wouldn't even charge her for the shuttle unless she insisted.

She'd promised Alana she'd never leave the Guild. After all, it had been both their desire, and just because Alana was dying didn't mean the dream couldn't live on.

Inara sighed. Not too long ago, she'd mentioned to Simon that she was a trained – though unlicensed – psychologist. _So, counselor, counsel thyself._

The truth was, Alana was gone, had been gone for years. And neither of them had ever imagined something like Miranda.

It wasn't desire keeping her in the Guild anymore. It was guilt. She'd _promised_, and it wasn't just any promise. It had been a deathbed promise to her own twin sister. She'd live the life of a Companion for both of them, for as long as she possibly could, no matter what it took.

Inara took a deep breath. _Don't play games with yourself. You're not just guilty. You're afraid, and you're angry at Alana for dying and leaving you bound to a life you're clearly not sure you still want._

Without further thought, without any hesitation, she picked the box back up and pulled the syringe out. Fishing out a handkerchief from the pile of fabric on the bed, she wrapped it and then squeezed. The sound of shattering glass echoed in the silence, and an inky dampness spread under her hand.

There was plenty of life left for her to live without needing to fight for every moment, only accepting death when it was inevitable – and then, only on her own terms.

The question now was whether it'd be the life of a Companion.

And whether Alana would ever forgive her.

_But I'm sorry,_ she thought silently. _I can't keep living for both of us anymore._


	14. Necessary Nightmares

_Firefly_ and _Serenity_ are copyrighted materials of Mutant Enemy, Universal Pictures and Twentieth-Century Fox. This is a fan story intended for entertainment purposes only. No monetary payment has been received or will be accepted in connection with this work, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

* * *

**Necessary Nightmares  
**_Prompt: Traitor_

* * *

"Funny, sir, how you always seem to find yourself in an Alliance-friendly bar come U-Day, looking for a quiet drink."

"And funny how you always seem to remind me of that fact," countered Mal. "In fact, I believe you've been known to use that exact same sentence."

"Mostly because it's the exact same situation," responded Zoë, keeping her voice as perfectly even as always.

This bar was a little classier than their usual haunts, though. Here on Boros, some figured to pretend they were in the Core – or at least close to it. Zoë caught sight of Inara in the distance, talking up a fancily-dressed man who clearly had more money than sense. She'd become a fairly effective agent for _Serenity_ in the past few months.

Some things were the same. But a lot had changed.

And not all of it was for the better.

Seeking a distraction – the captain wasn't yet drunk enough to want to start his fight – she let her gaze drift to the vid 'caster in one of the corners. It was, of course, showing the U-Day festivities in the Core, but she could amuse herself by considering how _ji__ǎ__n_ all the people in the crowds looked.

Then she became aware of what the reporter was saying. "...the people's spirit is still strong despite the actions of the traitors behind the Miranda hoax."

She was on her feet before she realized it. "Turn that _zhòu mà_ thing _off_!"

Mal was looking at her strangely. "Zoë? You okay? It's just a U-Day celebration. Happens every year along about this time."

"They just called Miranda a hoax. A _hoax_, sir!"

Now Mal wasn't the only one looking at her strangely. Out of the corner of her eye, Zoë could see Simon quietly beginning to move in from the edges of the crowd, but a burly man in less-than-fancy clothing stepped in his way. "That's mostly 'cause that _bù g__ǎ__n xi__â__ng xìn_ broadcast _was_ a fake. Probably some gaggle of Browncoats behind it."

She managed not to respond, but her fists clenched.

"Hey, he continued. You're dressed kind of like a Browncoat yourself."

"So what if I am?"

"Zoë," said Mal quietly. She ignored him.

"So you probably think that thing was real, huh? Just like all those other legends about Reavers and how they kill and eat folk for fun?"

She couldn't get to him fast enough, kicking over chairs and possibly a couple of people on the way. Zoë's hands tangled into the heckler's collar and she slammed him against a conveniently-located wall.

"Get your hands off me, woman! Have you gone crazy?"

"My husband," she snarled in his face, "did not _die_ at the hands of Reavers over a gorram _hoax_. Miranda was _real_. I saw it for myself."

"Did you now," he purred.

"Zoë," said Inara softly from her elbow. "I know you've been having nightmares again, but remember what I told you? It wasn't real. It was just someone using vid equipment to manipulate images."

She released the collar and spun to face the other woman. "Are you _f__â__ kuáng_? You were there too!'

"We were all there, Zoë," said Simon, having finally gotten close enough to be heard. No doubt he already had one of his shots ready for her. "Remember? You pulled all of us into your nightmares sooner or later." He glanced at the man up against the wall. "Please excuse her. The transmission came right after her husband was killed and she's been having some difficulty keeping things straight."

He straightened up, looking down his nose. "She's not just a traitor; she's dangerous. You ought to lock her kind up."

Zoë lunged for him again but Mal caught her and twisted her arms behind her. "Knock it _off!_" he hissed in her ear. "You're gonna get us all crosswise of those purple bellies sitting over there."

Slowly, she felt cool thoughts overcome the hot anger in her mind. The Miranda transmission hadn't been received well by the governments on Londinium and Sihnon. They'd acted as quickly as they could to discredit it, and had unfortunately been quite effective with respect to those folks on the Core worlds.

_Serenity_'s crew, still needing jobs, had decided to lie low for the moment. They had other evidence, including the coordinates of Miranda itself. They'd release it in its own time. Things weren't over yet but they had to keep their senses about them.

Zoë took a deep breath, though she couldn't quite muster the ingratiating smile she knew would be best. "I'm sorry; they're right. Let me buy you a drink."

The other man snorted and stomped off.

"We'd best leave," said Mal softly, and she followed him out. "So much for sitting in Alliance-friendly bars come U-Day. Maybe that's a lousy idea after all."

_No kidding_, she thought, but couldn't find the energy to say it out loud. Irritating folks was one thing. But lying?

That was another. That was treason to Wash's memory, no matter how necessary a nightmare it had become.

* * *

Translations:

_bù g__ǎ__n xi__â__ng xìn_ – unbelievable  
_f__â__ kuáng_ – crazy; mad  
_jiǎn_ – stupid; shallow  
_zhòu mà_ – damn; curse

* * *

_This fic opens with a line of dialogue from the episode, "The Train Job," which was written by Joss Whedon & Tim Minear and directed by Joss Whedon. Chinese translations were obtained from mandarintools dot com and all errors are my own._


	15. Bad Deal

_Firefly_ and _Serenity_ are copyrighted materials of Mutant Enemy, Universal Pictures and Twentieth-Century Fox. This is a fan story intended for entertainment purposes only. No monetary payment has been received or will be accepted in connection with this work, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

* * *

**Bad**** Deal  
**_(Prompt: Loyal)_

* * *

_How come you didn't turn on me, Jayne?_

_Money wasn't good enough._

_What happens when it is?_

_Well…that'll be an interesting day._

– _Malcolm Reynolds and Jayne Cobb, "Serenity" (episode)_

* * *

This day had come – and gone – on a planet named Ariel. But he'd never thought it would come around again.

Mal was all kinds of stupid, but the truth was that he ran a fair ship. After all, he not only split their takes (mostly) evenly, he also had given Jayne a berth of his own and generally let him do his own thing as long as it didn't cause problems for anyone else on _Serenity_.

While it was true that there was a little problem with respect to their success rate, he'd never gone hungry here. This had a lot to say for itself.

Now, though, he faced a situation that might just be saying more. "You want to pay me a salary, no matter how well the job goes?"

"More like a price-per-contract," answered Wang's agent. "You do your part, and we pay you."

"A contract, huh?" Jayne pretended to think for a moment, just for the negotiating value. "Not sure I really like that word, since I don't do contracts –"

"Not _those_ kinds of contracts."

He rolled his eyes; he knew that, damn it. Seemed this new job, however well it paid, wouldn't bring him much more respect than he had on _Serenity_. But this kind of money was enough to overlook that little detail.

"So what would the first 'contract' be?" he asked.

"That's the kicker." The agent leaned forward. "We need something that's on _Serenity_. One of the Tams."

"They ain't on the fugitive list no more. Won't bring in any bounty money."

"Not from the Parliament, no," said the agent. "And I'm talking about Simon Tam, not River. We want the doctor."

Jayne leaned back, genuinely confused now. "What good would you get from someone like him?"

The agent's eyes narrowed. "We wouldn't be paying you to ask questions like that. The only important question for you is whether you can deliver him."

"'Deliver' him? Like he's some kind of cargo?"

"It's strictly a business arrangement."

Jayne surveyed the bar around him. He'd had this conversation once before too, though with a purple belly instead of an independent merchant.

"No deal," he finally said after a while. "You want me? You got me. You want him? You're gonna have to ask him."

Now it was the agent's turn to lean back in his chair. "This is something of a test, you know."

"Anyone else, that's fine. Those two are off limits." Jayne leaned forward. "All they want is to be left alone."

That elicited a laugh from the other man. "I wouldn't have expected you to be so sentimental."

"It ain't sentimental! I've just – I've seen –" he trailed off. What wasn't this reaction if it wasn't getting sentimental? And what the gorramn hell was he _doing?_

Wang's agent finished laughing. "If you can't deliver them, I'm sure we can find someone else. Our client is paying _very_ well."

"Not well enough. Not for me." He stood up, and then leaned down to go eye-to-eye with the other man. "And now you've given me a warning."

"If we hear about them finding out, we'll know who passed it on."

"Like that's supposed to scare me." He stalked off, and it was only after he was outside the bar that it occurred to him that the entire thing might've been a setup anyway. There was no guarantee that they'd actually offer him other work after turning in the doctor.

But this was still downright creepy, him suddenly getting all protective. He fumed all the way back to the ship, where Kaylee let him in. "Welcome back. That didn't take very long."

"Bad deal," he grumbled. "Wasn't worth it."

She frowned. "That's too bad."

All Jayne had wanted to do was go back to his bunk, but he found himself stopping and lingering. "The doc around?"

"Haven't seen him in a bit, but I think he's still on the ship."

"Next time you do see him, tell him he needs to stay on the ship. At least here."

"Jayne?" Her expression had changed again. "Somethin' going on?"

"No," he growled, but even then he knew she could tell he was lying.

But the doctor, he knew, would stay on the ship after Kaylee talked to him.

He wasn't worried about that. But he was worried as hell about the reason he'd even said anything in the first place. Jayne Cobb was a merc. He wasn't loyal to anything except Jayne Cobb, his family, and money.

He _wasn__'__t_, gorramn it. And he had no plans to change that. Not now, not ever.


	16. Triptych

_Firefly_ and _Serenity_ are copyrighted materials of Mutant Enemy, Universal Pictures and Twentieth-Century Fox. This is a fan story intended for entertainment purposes only. No monetary payment has been received or will be accepted in connection with this work, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

* * *

**Triptych**  
_(Prompt: Miracle)_

* * *

Mal isn't surprised when the old pendant, the one he'd stopped wearing after the war, accidentally falls out of its box into his hands that night. Not after the day he's had.

* * *

It started in the morning when they were loading the cargo for their run back out to Boros. It was perishable – medical supplies needing refrigeration – so Simon had been around to make sure it was stored correctly. He'd been careful to make sure that the monitors on each of the boxes were working right, that the temperature settings were appropriate for the particular item inside.

The young doctor had even stepped toward the doors of the cargo bay when their client, Thaddeus Marcone, came by to confirm the load-in and give some last minute instructions. Simon's face had lit up when he saw the client; he was grateful for any opportunity to talk shop. He didn't often have the chance.

Jayne, supervising the loading itself, had scowled and unobtrusively moved toward the door with him. Mal, who'd just happened to be on the catwalk at the time, noticed the odd move. Alerted, he stepped behind one of the stanchions and made sure his weapon was clear.

"Well," said Marcone after a few minutes, "it's been good talking with you, Doctor…Tam, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Simon with a smile, offering his hand.

Marcone shook it. "Your reputation precedes you, you know."

Simon's smile faded slightly. "Really? And…what reputation would that be?"

Until then, Jayne had been hanging back, ostensibly doing something with the cargo bay controls. Now, though, he stepped into the light a few meters behind Simon. His hand moved casually on the butt of his gun, but Mal could see that he'd unsnapped the holster strap.

The gesture wasn't lost on Marcone. "A reputation as…a fine young physician. One of the best to have trained on Osiris."

"You're aware I'm from Osiris? I didn't know that was common knowledge."

"Not all knowledge is common, doctor," said Marcone. "But not all knowledge is secret, either."

Jayne took a single step forward, and an uneasy look flashed briefly across their client's face.

"I really must be going," he said suddenly, turning toward the ramp. "It's good to know my supplies are in such capable hands. Until we meet again, doctor."

"Yes," said Simon. "Of course."

He turned back toward Jayne after Marcone got to the bottom of the ramp. "Do you mind? I'd been enjoying that conversation."

"You'd have enjoyed it a lot less once his men got hold of you," snapped Jayne, who was re-securing his gun.

"Once his men…?"

"Said it yourself, doc. Not too many people know you're from Osiris. The ones who do? Think about what else they might know."

Simon digested that for a minute. "You think they know why I'm not on Osiris anymore."

"Knew your pretty brain was good for something other than medicine, Doc."

The doctor's chin came up. "The warrants were rescinded. I'm not a fugitive anymore."

"No," said Jayne, "not from the Alliance. But there's others might want a piece of you. Ever thought of that?"

From the expression on Simon's face, he apparently hadn't. Mal sighed inwardly. It was easy to forget, sometimes, after Miranda. But the young, Core-bred doctor was still somewhat naïve about the way of things in the outer planets. You never stopped watching your back. Never.

Yet it was Jayne who'd been there as a reminder. Mal remembered Ariel, remembered the arguments after the incident at the Maidenhead. If anyone on their crew would sell Simon and River out, it would be Jayne.

Despite that, Jayne was obviously protecting Simon against something – and Mal would have bet a considerable amount that the merc knew more than he was letting on. There really hadn't been any reason for him to be in the cargo bay in the first place, after all.

* * *

He'd left the cargo bay after that, but the scene stayed stuck in his head for the rest of the day. Even now, as he traces a finger around the edge of the small cross in his hands, Mal can't help but to shake his head again. Jayne protecting Simon. Would wonders never cease.

* * *

They'd lifted off right before lunch, and once River got them to into cruising mode they gathered in the kitchen for a meal. Inara was cooking, and her dishes were always excellent despite the lack of variety in available ingredients.

Kaylee had grease on her face, as usual, but a smile on her face. She'd launched into a description of the latest replacement part they'd scrounged for _Serenity_: a newer, lighter and stronger version of the belt that looped around the edge of her beating heart and thus made all of the rest of the pieces move.

"We'll be able to take her up to max speed now," she enthused as they began eating. "River, you don't have to worry about staying 20% below the red line no more. You can go on and take her all the way up, in fact probably a little over if you see the need."

"Not fuel efficient," answered River. "Probably won't."

"Oh, I know. But it's useful to have that if you need it. You know, for an emergency. If we get chased or something."

Zoë's response to that was a wary look. "Kaylee, what if we'd had to get into a chase before now?" The last time that had happened, they'd had a whole pack of Reavers behind them. Wash had been hard-pressed to keep _Serenity_ close enough to keep them interested, yet still far enough ahead to avoid being actually caught.

The mechanic suddenly became very interested in her food. "It's just good we didn't."

Zoë wouldn't let that slide. "Kaylee."

With a sigh, she looked back up. The smile was gone. "The old belt was cracked. I knew that. But it wasn't 'til I took it off that I saw some of the cracks was almost all the way through. It could've broke anytime. It most likely _would_ have broke if River'd taken her up to full power."

Mal couldn't help but to ask the question. "And if that had happened?"

Kaylee shook her head. "That belt drives near about _everything_ in the engine, Cap'n, and if it snapped under pressure it could've cut straight through an awful lot of other important parts. Let's just say it's luck that didn't happen. Someone must've been watching over us."

* * *

Yes, thinks Mal now. It was almost as if someone _had_ been watching over them.

He snorts. As if.

He's never quite managed to give up believing in God, but the moment he realized how much the deity did – or rather, didn't – look after His followers is still a raw memory he'll never forget. And Mal has no use for a God that doesn't fly his colors.

_You're welcome on my boat_, he'd told the dearly departed preacher once. _God ain't_.

He'd taken off the cross and put it in a cardboard box once they'd been evacuated off Hera. This is the first time since then that he's even looked at it. The metal's not as shiny as he remembers.

* * *

He'd noticed, when he came out of the shower room, that the infirmary lights were still at full strength despite the late hour. Simon had apparently forgotten to turn them out again. With a sigh, Mal had headed through the passenger lounge to take care of it, making a mental note to call the doctor out on his lapse at breakfast.

Mal stopped when he heard voices. They were soft, one high, one low. But they were both more musical than the doctor's tenor. Women's voices.

"And you're sure?" asked Inara. "Despite Wash being –"

Zoë's sigh was faintly audible. "It's not like this was an accident. We both wanted this. Be a shame not to go through with it now, especially since it seems the little one's so determined to hang on."

"So determined…?"

"I got hurt on that moon, too. Not bad, not like the doc, but it…it's been enough before."

"You've had a miscarriage?"

"Yeah." Zoë's voice became lower. "Yeah, I have. Twice. First time, it was the Skyplex. Simon says that the baby probably had something wrong with it the second time, but I couldn't help but notice it happened the day after Early came for River."

"But Simon says the baby's healthy this time?"

It was all Mal could do to keep quiet. Why hadn't Zoë told him? Why hadn't he guessed? He'd known her for years; he should have noticed if something was different.

For that matter, why hadn't either of them told him that they were trying to have a child? He shook his head at the notion. His boat was no doubt first on the list of places a kid _didn't_ belong.

Inara asked one of those questions for him, at least. "When are you going to tell the others?"

"I'm not quite to halfway," answered Zoë. "I figured I'd wait 'til we were sure the baby's actually coming. You know how the Captain will react."

"I can imagine," said Inara, and Mal winced at the tone of her voice. "Why did you ask me to meet you here, then? Since I assume Simon's already aware?"

"He is, but I figured you'd know better than him about what's best for the nausea. Bein' a woman who's been around…I mean, he can give me medicine, but there might be something else better."

This time it was Inara who sighed. "Yes, I guess I have been 'around.' Let me see. Maybe one of the milder antacids, combined with some ginger tea –"

After that, Mal had decided he didn't need to hear anymore and had headed forward, toward his bunk and sleep. His mind was spinning. He should be angry with Zoë, that she hadn't trusted him, that she was being foolish enough to consider bringing a helpless child aboard _Serenity_, that it meant one more mouth they'd have to feed…

But he had to admit that he was fighting a loopy smile off his face, too. Clearly, she wanted a child badly enough to keep trying after two miscarriages and Wash's death. It had been a long shot, and he wondered how long she had had nothing to hang on to but hope. But Zoë had gotten her miracle, and now she was willing to fight to keep it.

If she was willing to do that, he could be willing to wait until she made the announcement. He'd also be willing to pretend, for her sake, that he didn't already know.

* * *

He'd brushed his teeth and reached up to put the toothpaste away, and that was when he'd jostled the box open and the cross had fallen into his hands. It'd been a coincidence, nothing more, that it had happened while he'd been thinking about unexpected protection and near misses and miracles that were worth fighting for.

There'd been a time when Mal didn't believe in coincidences. But not anymore.

He takes the box from the shelf and drops the chain and cross back into it, thinking to head for the recycler. He's already across the room, shucking his boots off before bed, when he realizes that he'd simply tucked it back up onto the shelf instead.

_Just habit_, he tells himself. _That's all that was. Don't go to looking for something's not there._

But as he reaches to turn out the light, he knows that perhaps it was a sign that he's not quite ready to give up on miracles after all. Even if it means also believing in things that he knows, from long experience, won't always go his way.

* * *

_Author's Note: despite what it might look like, this series isn't back. But if you follow me on Twitter (LFVoy), keep an eye out for an announcement that will likely be of interest._


End file.
